Men Are Trash, but Dudes Rock

Since the dawn of man, man has been referred to as “man.” What’s up with that? Says a lot about society if you ask me (a man).

A dog is who’s best friend? Man. One small step for whom? Man. One giant leap for whom? Mankind. That’s just, like, whose opinion? MAN.

We’ve heard this for centuries. Man has certainly had his time in the sun, and the rest of the world is ready for its turn.

After systemically oppressing people different than them for–well, forever, it’s high time that men get a taste of their own medicine. Though not as prevalent as it once was a few years back, I still see and hear it all the time. A phrase that encapsulates the bitterness and rage that has built up over generations of oppression: Men Are Trash.

Sure, this may have hurt some feelings, but such is the case for many claims that are tough to argue against. Gaze upon the history of man, and see that it sucks. From being more annoying than harmful, to condescending to anyone around they can, to violent offenses such as mass shootings, men have not left a great impression on the world.

And personally, I love to see it being called out. I’m secure enough in myself to know that when I hear “men are trash”, the phrase is (probably, hopefully) not really referring to me. Obviously I’m far from perfect, but I recognize it, and actively try to avoid doing dumbass things that a trash-man would do (note: I am not referring to sanitation engineers/garbage men, who are heroes).

The reason we continue to see this phrase used all the time is not because it’s an insult–it’s motivational reminder. And a needed one at that.

Men all over the world are completely oblivious to behavior that is basically pulling on a garbage bag and hopping into a dumpster. Some men can almost wield their absurd lack of self-awareness as a weapon–never second guessing themselves, always completely confident in whatever they are saying or doing. Calling these clowns out is really doing them a favor–pushing them toward self reflection.

Cultural change always takes a long time, especially when trying to push change among a group in power, in this instance, men. But keep dragging men, kings, queens, and nonbinary royalty. We are making progress.

But another movement is also on the rise, gaining momentum and power with each passing day. It’s every bit as simple and elegant as ‘Men Are Trash’–the emerging ideology of: ‘Dudes rock.’

At its core, Dudes Rock is simple. However, when explored more thoroughly, this movement contains a vast spectrum of ideas about masculinity.

As we all know, many men rarely second guess themselves, often leading to poorly-thought-out actions which could hurt others. Dudes Rock allows us to celebrate a more innocent expression of the average man’s soaring levels of self-security.

This fella isn’t harming anyone, just enjoying himself in the park. He’s so sure of himself that even the hot summer air can’t stop him from enjoying his beverage of choice: buttermilk.

Alternatively, Dudes Rock also encompasses the more introspective man.

Dudes Rock has empowered men to stand up for themselves when they do get it right.

Perhaps above all else, Dudes Rock brings men together. Dudes Rock breaks through barriers built by decades of societal homophobia, clearing the way for men to foster more substantive, vulnerable, and intimate relationships with one another.

We can only hope that more Dudes will continue to Rock going forward.

Despite the obvious truth behind Men Are Trash, it rings equally true that Dudes Rock. Men Are Trash has spread through our society like freshly poured concrete, forming a walkway to a new, more equal world, where the unearned privilege of being a man will continue to be reduced.

The sprouts of plant life, which somehow manage to break through the cracks in the sidewalk to find sunshine, are Dudes. Dudes who Rock.

To Be Online

Last Man Standing fucking sucks. There. I said it.

Had to get that off my chest. Anyway, I realized the other day that I spend too much time on my phone. Some folks might say “everyone is addicted to their phone”. Those who know me personally would say “yeah duh”. Both groups are correct.

However, my realization came when I was walking out of the bathroom at my office. Right after I finished washing my hands (I swear), I pulled out my phone to look at… what?

My messages received since the last time I looked at the screen (probably right before going into the bathroom)? The 1 or 2 new tweets that appeared on my timeline during my time in the loo? I honestly don’t remember. But I wasn’t doing anything better, so I pulled out my phone, I guess?

After I exited the water closet, phone in hand, I realized someone could have seen me exiting the bathroom holding my phone. What would a coworker think of my actions?

Regardless of whether they thought it was weird or normal, I decided I didn’t want to be seen as ‘guy who holds phone while exiting bathroom’. So I calmly placed my phone back into my j-crew factory walker vest pocket (sponsored by j-crew [parody]) and strode back to my desk.

At that point in my day, I didn’t have any immediately pressing work to do, which is perhaps why I felt such an itch to look at my small screen once more, as opposed to my larger laptop screen. Even on the walk back to my desk, more than one second of looking at the hallway in front of me seemed like too much.

Like I was somehow wasting my time if I wasn’t tapping or scrolling, only half paying attention to the colorful shapes (devoid of corners, obviously) occupying the 6.1 inch display of my iphone XR (also sponsored [not parody this time {okay fine, it’s parody}]).

Let it be known that I just picked up my phone and put it down 2 times to look at notifications, nearly as soon as it vibrated. These movements were completely muscle memory. I didn’t think at all when I was performing them. Furthermore: I was not getting messages, I was getting notified of the twitter posts of two close associates.

My attention span is absolutely fucked. To be fair, it has sort of been this way all my life, to an extent. Heck, it even has its moments. Later in the afternoon today, I sat down and got a lot of work done with only a few screen-looks (leave a like if you get the reference, gamers).

After a bit of thinking (which was very hard), I determined that the main reason I look at my phone is to feel connected to something. To be clear, I am actually really enjoying my life right now, ‘specially compared to where I was a year ago. But I still find myself rarely wanting to be alone with my own thoughts. I always seem to need some sort of background noise, or some visual distraction.

And for the most part, I think that’s okay. For a long time I’ve thought, “Yeah, I’m addicted to my phone and social media, but everyone is, so who cares.”… Unfortunately I realized today that I care. I wanted to post on this blog weekly, or biweekly if possible. I don’t even remember how long ago my first post after the reboot was, but it was longer than 2 weeks for sure.

I began to wonder how much time I had spent at home staring at my phone after work (despite having nothing to ‘catch up’ on after constantly checking it throughout the workday).

I decided to make a graph to illustrate the time spent on my phone. Check it out here.

lmao sorry. there is not actually a graph. 

Anyway, like I said, I don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world to spend a lot of time vegging out on your phone after a workday. How’s it any different than coming home and turning on da boob tube before spending the evening on the couch?

Honestly that’s all that we have energy for sometimes, and that’s fine. No reason to feel bad about it. It’s a simple fix. I’ll use my own situation as an example.

Spent like an hour on this baby. What a good use of time.

So there it is folks. Easy as that.

In reality, I am hoping to spend less time looking at my phone, specifically less time looking at Twitter. What will this accomplish for me? Idk. I’ll keep you posted though. Anyway I have to go record a podcast.

See u l8r alligators
–Joshi

PS: Looking to sell some navy blue adidas boosts–size 10. HMU

Sup.

Hey guys. It me (Josh). Here’s the deal:

The blog is back baby. And this time, I’m not fucking around. That’s right. I say swears now.

You may be wondering: Josh, why did you move your blog away from your personal website and onto this one? Aren’t domain names expensive? And the answer is: I don’t want to have to censor myself, so I have disconnected the blog from my website, which I plan to use professionally for a quite a while.

Also, yes, they are expensive as hell. But I’m going to enjoy this a lot more now that I don’t have to worry about potential employers reading it, and hopefully so will you!

Today I’m writing about a theory I have about the human psyche. Specifically the human psyche of dudes. Probably most specifically dudes like me (straight, white, middle/upper middle class, looks like Gumby).

As we all know, just as individuals can be friends, families can be friends, too. And often, within family friendships, individual friendships of varying intimacy exist.

Sometimes a family friend, AKA the person in the other family that is closest to your age, is little more than an acquaintance. Alternatively, an individual family friendship can evolve into a friendship which can stand alone, regardless of the overarching familial relationships. Furthermore, some family friendships blossom out of a budding individual friendship.

This theory is similar to the one posed by Harry in the genre-defining Rom-Com When Harry Met Sally (1989). Something along the lines of ‘men and women can’t be friends because the man always wants to sleep with the woman.’ I’m not looking up the actual quote. Whatever.

My theory:

If a guy has a female family friend who is a woman around his age, he has had this thought about her: ‘We could probably get married some day.’

Before you hit me with a ‘Not All Men’, yes. I know. Exceptions to every rule, blah blah blah. And let me be clear: this is not even close to a fully-baked thought.

This is like a fragment of a daydream, which drifts into a dude’s mind when idly scrolling through Instagram, lingering for a moment on a photo of his female family friend dressed up for a dance with some guy who has an internship with his dad’s pharmaceutical sales company lined up for this summer.

It lasts for an instant. Based purely on the fact that ‘our parents get along’ and ‘we’ve known each other our whole lives’, this guy has decided to make a one sided marriage pact. A classic ‘if we’re still single when we’re 40, we’ll get married.’ And I 100% believe with all my heart that some dude has absolutely turned 35 or 40 and Facebook messaged that family friend. The poor girl.

I’m being a little hard on the guy, here, I know. To be honest, I think this is pretty innocent. A split second fantasy of a happy life spent with a person you care about is certainly not the end of the world. And if you were to say this is projection on my part… You got me. I’ve had this very thought before. But immediately after, I laughed at myself for being a dumbass.

Basically, my brain will often draft up a ‘what if we dated lol? jk… unless?” message, directed toward all kinds of gals with whom I have 0 chance of being romantically involved. Luckily, I’ve never sent one of those messages, at least not since like middle school.

Most recently, the subjects of these silly, naive fantasies, have been random other twitter addicts, who I have never met and will never meet. But my brain says: ‘they also like twitter and are funny, and they are an attractive woman, so we have a crush on them I guess?’

That’s right. Lord forgive me. Multiple times. I mean, obviously I didn’t really fall for an egirl. But, I’m pretty sure I did exactly the thing that inspired that image.

It’s so easy to project a fake personality onto someone we don’t actually know. How many adolescent relationships have ended because one partner realized that neither really had anything in common, they just both wanted to make out in a basement?

I’d wager 3 out of 5. At least. Sorry to my high school gf lmao.

Anyway, in conclusion, next time you’re 2 adult beverages deep and watching Parks and Recreation, go ahead and message that family friend. I’m sure they feel the same way.

Just kidding. Don’t do that, you freak. Masturbate and go to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning, and eventually find love (maybe).